An Accursed Gift
by Quantumphysica
Summary: "I don't understand how it's possible, like really not, but you are not a bad person. You are a really nice person who just likes to torture people." In which unlikely friendships are made, people and diaries get cruciated alike, a debt is repaid and accidentally the best way to cure a ghost of chronic depression is discovered. Sequel to A Gift And A Curse, can be read separately.
1. The Daily Torture Average

**IMPORTANT PLOT INFORMATION**

**This is a sequel. If you don't feel like reading the previous part, titled A Gift And A Curse, here are the details you should know. **

**It played in the first year of Hogwarts, mostly following the canon events (Quirrell, the stone, the trio going out to get it,...) **

**The main character is Crucio Carina Lestrange, who goes by the name Crucie Black in school to avoid the worst of her death-eater heritage. She lives with her uncle Rabastan (who miraculously escaped the ****aurors before he could get caught at the Longbottoms' place)******** in an apartment on Knockturn Alley****. She is capable of casting a wandless cruciatus curse at anyone, a "birth defect" from her mother casting too many unforgivables during pregnancy. Crucie loves torture, and she practices often and without mercy. She is also a genuinely nice person, interested in muggle technology and not really all that prejudiced. **

**Because torture doesn't exactly make one a loved person, she doesn't have many friends at Hogwarts. She tried making friends with Hermione, but a certain event that involved a mountain troll and a lot of cruciating made them drift apart. Her best friend is the large portrait of Salazar Slytherin, located in an abandoned corridor where she often comes to escape the glares of classmates.**

**Now she is ready for a second year at Hogwarts... **

Crucie was back on Knockturn Alley, and the first place she visited was Borgin And Burke's, the shop she had spent a great deal of her younger childhood in. Mr Burke looked like he wanted to hug her tight, but he was much too dignified and dark a wizard for that.

"Crucio, my dear! How was Hogwarts? Tell me, how is your score at the moment?"

"645, Mr Burke. I didn't have a lot of volunteers."

The old wizard patted her on the shoulder.

"Poor dear, you must be aching to let it all out!"

Crucie nodded.

"Kind of…"

"Well, I'm going on a house-visit to discuss the price of this artefact a client is interested in… I have the feeling your assistance might be welcome. If you would like to come…?"

Crucie grinned widely.

"Sure thing! I just have to let my uncle know I won't be cooking dinner."

Caractacus Burke shook his head.

"That man… How did he even survive before he had you?"

"I think he just got himself a girlfriend from time to time to cook and do laundry…"

"Speaking of which, how long has it been since he's brought someone home?"

Crucie thought about that.

"Well, since I cruciated the last one; I don't think he brings them home anymore. I'm kind of happy with that, the walls are thin and I don't need to hear every detail of his love-life."

Burke laughed heartily.

"Ah, poor Rabastan…"

"Poor me, you mean!"

"You've become cheeky there in Hogwarts… Is Professor Binns still as sleep-inducingly boring?"

"You have had classes with him too?"

"Dear, Cuthberth Binns has been a ghost since the late seventeenth century, and even I am not that old. Of course I had classes with him. I don't remember a thing of them."

Crucie chuckled.

"I think that man would be a great diplomat."

"Oh?"

"The boringness of his classes is possibly the only thing you can get aurors and death eaters to agree on."

Again Mr Burke laughed.

"Cheeky you have become indeed! Now, I wanted to show you this artefact I got my hands on, you see it is most…"

While talking he led Crucie to the back of the shop, where they admired and discussed the various dark objects until it was time to leave on the house visit. When Crucie returned from that, she felt completely refreshed, as if she had been revived. She hadn't known how much tension there was inside her until she could let it all go and freely torture someone. It reminded her of Dumbledore's words, how he had doubted that she was even capable of stopping to torture completely. It made her decide that she really had to learn more about her talent…

_(Pagebreak)_

The summer holiday passed in a haze… Crucie divided her time between Borgin And Burke's and Muggle London. Rabastan watched worriedly how her room started to look more and more like a curiosity cabinet… There were all kinds of muggle machines in different states of disassembly adorning her shelves along with magical ones, her desk had become a workbench and from the ceiling hung all kinds of objects; paper-folded birds, colourful and strangely-shaped glass artefacts, muggle light bulbs, fake flowers, and other bizarre items... She even had an enchanted taxidermy crow sitting on her desk, which would caw and pick at anyone trying to touch her workbench.

Rabastan put the blame on Mr Burke, who had passed his love of collecting all things interesting to Crucie. It wasn't uncommon to hear loud noises, cursing and angry hissing coming from her room, as she spent a lot of time experimenting with the combination of technology and magic, a combination that blew up more often than not. The death eater had decided to let her; the Lestranges weren't like the Blacks in their policy of disowning all people who showed the slightest interest in muggle things, and it wasn't that Crucie was in any way becoming a light witch. That he saw proved when she got home from Knockturn alley with the widest grin on her face and presented him with a Chocolate Fudge Pie.

"Oh wow! I must have done something really well today! Care to tell me what?"

"I reached 750 tonight!"

When he realized what she meant, Rabastan clapped his hands.

"Well done Crucie! Who was the last one?"

"Some random muggle woman… One of Mr Burke's clients was 749 and I didn't want to have to wait another day…"

"Your average is a lot higher these days than before…"

Crucie's smile fell a bit.

"I know… but I have to get my fill before the start of next term. You see, I've decided on an experiment. I'm not going to torture anyone in Hogwarts for as long as I can hold it. I want to see if I can stop myself."

Rabastan doubted that was a particularly good idea, but didn't express his doubts. He wasn't one to spoil anyone's fun, especially not if it had to do with torture.

Later that evening, after they had almost eaten themselves an indigestion on the pie, Crucie went to her room and opened a book to do her administration. In neat handwriting the first page read, "_Torture Registry of Crucio Carina Lestrange. Read without permission and you WILL be cruciated."_ Further on there were a lot of columns, in which Crucie faithfully wrote her data. Name, date, time of exposure, effect. Proudly she marked "Bathsheba Direland" and "Unknown Muggle, Female" as 749 and 750 in the list. To herself she muttered.

"Voila… 250 more and I give a party."

_(Pagebreak)_

Crucie was rather proud on her projects. She had managed to enchant various muggle objects to function normally, along which were an analogue wristwatch and a larger clock, but those were all based on clockwork. Once you figured out how the parts had to move with respect to each other the spells were rather simple, and although funny it wasn't at all revolutionary. Crucie was fascinated with the batteries Hermione had showed her and she had studied the muggle phenomenon of electricity quite extensively… There had to be a way to provide simple objects with a small, easily handled source of magical power that didn't require one to enchant every single part of the object… She wished she knew someone who was interested in the same things as her to discuss it all with… One of the last days of the summer holiday she decided to find someone. She found herself absolutely ridiculous for doing so, but she still had a personal ad placed in the Daily Prophet, stating:

"_Wanted, witch/wizard interested in the functioning and enchantment of muggle artefacts, as pen-pall. Owl addressed to CL, The Anonymous Owlery, box 1547."_

She didn't expect anyone to actually answer, but it was simply fun to imagine the possibilities. The Anonymous Owlery was a relatively new shop on Knockturn Alley, but it already had a wide range of customers, mostly among those people that had something to hide. It offered post-boxes as well as owls, enabling people to send and receive letters without having to give their address to others. You could pick up your mail yourself, or have a TAO owl deliver it to you, complete confidence assured. The back-to-school craze hit however, and Crucie forgot about her ad and her mail, excited to go to Hogwarts again yet sad to leave her friends and family…

_(Pagebreak)_

The story was being told all over Hogwarts, and Crucie was both intrigued and awfully jealous. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had arrived in a flying muggle vehicle. An enchanted flying muggle vehicle, because it was one of those vehicles that doesn't fly in its normal state. Sure, they had almost gotten expelled over it and hadn't been allowed to attend the Start-Of-Term Feast, but then… It still was a flying muggle vehicle and she would have died to take a good look at it.

"A Disssssgrace, that'ssss what it issss!"

"It was pretty awesome though. I wonder who did the enchanting. Can't have been easy…"

"Tsssss…"

Salazar Slytherin did not agree with her on the subject of flying muggle vehicles. As he had once explained to Crucie, he could take peace with enchanted muggle artefacts, as long as they served a proper use. A flying mechanical monstrosity didn't serve much use in his eyes. Crucie couldn't really disagree, but still.

"Isn't being interesting a form of being useful as well?"

The portrait appeared to be thinking about that.

"No."

His definite answer, delivered with a haughty smirk, did Crucie giggle. The founder just rolled his eyes.

"Ssssooo… Any other newssss?"

"I made progress in my research after magical batteries… Oh, and something else…" She purposefully waited a bit before revealing, "I broke my daily torture average this summer!"

"Congratulationsssss, Missss Lestrange!"

Crucie grinned delighted. For a moment she didn't want to think of the long, torture-less months in front of her, instead concentrating on her achievements.

"I look forward to using my wand for it… According to Mr Burke a wand acts as an amplifier for magic, he believes I might not even need to pronounce the curse to have incredibly strong effects…"

Salazar nodded quietly.

"Thissss talent of yoursssss… Isssss it hereditary?"

"Professor Dumbledore said it might."

"Then it isssss like parsssseltongue… You will passsss on greatnessss to your descendantssss…"

That was somewhat the best compliment you could receive from the likes of Salazar Slytherin, and Crucie glowed with pride. It completely made her forget her initial disdain about the flying muggle vehicle…

_(Pagebreak)_

The Defence Against The Dark Arts professor was ridiculous. As in, absolutely ridiculous. Crucie threw one look at him, his glitzy mauve suit, his curly hair, and his flashy smile… and knew enough. That man was a living caricature, and when he opened his mouth she saw her suspicions confirmed. He seemed incapable of talking about anything but himself. The worst was that all the girls, both Gryffindor and Slytherin, hung on his lips practically begging him for more useless details. Even Hermione, it was just plain distasteful. Funny detail was though that he was rather obsessed with Harry Potter and constantly drew the attention of the class to him. Potter's uncomfortable look made having to sit out the completely useless lesson worthwhile…

Crucie spent most the lesson imagining all the ways in which she could make this Gilderoy Lockhart scream and plead, his body contorting in most painful and unnatural ways. She didn't realize a huge and slightly disturbed grin was plastered all over her face until the moment Lockhart looked her way.

"A sickle for the thoughts of that lovely lady on the second row!" He winked. "A galleon if they're about me!"

Crucio looked up and mindlessly answered.

"Just imagining how you might look under torture."

It was out before she realized what she had said, and the classroom had gone completely silent. Much to her pleasure though Gilderoy Lockhart's smile had become a little more forced too.

"I may hope my dashing good looks don't suffer under this procedure, Miss…?"

"Black. Crucio Black."

Crucie threw him her loveliest smile, and for a moment the professor calmed down, fooled by her façade. Immediately he became his cocky self again.

"Well, Miss Black, I have gone through quite a lot in my life and I have encountered things so horrifying your pretty head couldn't imagine them… so I can honestly say I don't fear torture."

The conceitedness of the man made Crucie want to hurl. Her eyes narrowed a bit, and she could feel the magic inside her hum with eagerness to come out full force. It cost her all her self-control to stop herself… The whole class was waiting for what she would do, and it was clear that Lockhart was slightly apprehensive too now, seeing her reaction.

"Everybody fears torture, Professor Lockhart. The nature of the torture is completely determined by the victim, in such manner that it always is what the victim fears."

"Y-you seem very knowledgeable in the subject, Miss Black… I hope you realize torture is considered a criminal offence and not something to be gone over lightly!"

Crucie smiled again.

"I never go lightly over torture, Professor Lockhart."

**(Author's Notes)**

**So... I already put a lot of plot info on top, yet I still hope some of you will want to read the prequel... **

**PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! I give cookies to all of you!**

**Also, all kinds of comments, critics, compliments are welcome! I appreciate it when you point out ****my mistakes because it's the only way I can get better... and seriously, WARN ME if Crucie turns into a Mary Sue. I hate Mary Sue's with a passion, writing one if my biggest fear. **


	2. On Prejudice And Hypocrisy

There was a surprise for Crucie at breakfast, when a scruffy church owl deposited her a brown paper package. She recognized the logo of The Anonymous Owlery on the bird's little moneybag, and remembered that silly ad she had placed a while ago. She had completely forgotten about it… she paid him and opened her package. It contained a couple short notes that were obviously only sent for pranking purposes, a threat at the address of muggle-lovers, and then one neatly folded piece of parchment… a real letter. Excitedly, Crucie read it.

_Dear CL,_

_I saw your ad in the Daily Prophet and was immediately interested. Muggle artefacts and their magical potential are my passion, both professionally and as a hobby. My friends and family aren't particularly interested in this, so you can imagine how excited I was when I saw your message. The climate for muggle studies is a lot better than it was during the First War obviously, but there is still a lot of disdain and hostility, which makes finding fellow interested people often difficult. Therefor I completely understand you want to stay anonymous._

_I am the head of the department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, which may sound fancy but it is barely a glorified broom closet, testament of how important the wizarding world thinks our shared interest is… I hold the hope that perhaps if people with shared interest in muggle artefacts get together we can make a difference to that with groundbreaking research. The possibilities are there; only there aren't enough funds and know-how to dive into it…_

_I hope to hear from you soon with a bit of information about your research! If you're interested, I can return that favour with information about my own work._

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur Weasley, _

_Head of Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts_

She could barely believe her eyes. She had not only gotten a real response to her ad… she had gotten response from a Weasley! Since this Arthur Weasley was obviously related to Ron, Crucie figured he must have been the one to enchant the magnificent flying vehicle… It was a most wonderful coincidence, she thought. She hid the letter and finished breakfast, mentally already thinking of what she would send back… How ironic, that of all people it was a Weasley who had answered her… She hoped he would never find out how much she detested Ron, she didn't know if he was the boy's father, uncle or brother but for some reason she was certain that wouldn't go over well.

_(Pagebreak)_

Things were looking up for Crucie, it seemed. Pansy was still a pain, but Daphne was becoming a better friend and she had even invited her to come over for Christmas at the Greengrass Manor. Hermione still avoided her, but sometimes Crucie caught her eyes with a sense of regret in them, as if she would like to restore their friendship. She didn't tell anyone, but it made her hopeful. She had answered Mr Weasley's letter, apologizing for the delay and sending him a few transcripts of her carefully put together research notes. She told him about her wish to create magical batteries that could serve as an instant enchantment for random muggle objects, and asked if he knew anything on the subject. Slowly the idea that everything would be okay started to fill her… only to be disrupted and destroyed by an unlikely and frightening event.

"_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE!"_.

Everyone was talking about it. The petrified cat, the writing in blood… Crucie knew what the Chamber of Secrets was, better than most students, because Salazar Slytherin had told her quite a lot about it, how he had built the chamber when Hogwarts was constructed, how his "dear friend" had it as a home, and mostly about how dangerous it was to go there now. Bound by an oath she couldn't tell anyone of course, but if the look the founder sometimes got when speaking of the Chamber was any reference, it being opened was not a good thing…

_(Pagebreak)_

Crucie noticed from the looks people threw at her that she was clearly under suspicion. Apparently blood-written threats on a wall had her name all over it, according to a couple Hufflepuffs she overheard. She also sat in the first interesting class given by Cuthberth Binns, where she learned a couple of things she would definitely have to question Salazar about…

"I think we have to talk…"

"I feel I ssssshould regret sssspeaking of the Chamber to you…"

"The secret is safe with me, don't worry… I just… I sat in class with professor Binns, and he said you put a monster in the Chamber to kill all muggleborns in the school when released. Is that really what you want?"

Crucie asked, because it seemed so unlike the utilitarian man she had gotten to know as a portrait. Salazar was almost as good as Dumbledore when it came to showing different emotions at once, quite a feat for the most reserved portrait of the school. Now he looked both indignant and depressed.

"Regina issss not a monster, Misss Lestrange. Ssshe isss a noble creature and wasss a mossst faithful friend to me."

"But she will kill all muggleborns… right? Or is that something Binns made up for extra drama?"

Crucie just couldn't imagine Professor Binns making anything up, let alone for extra drama; she believed the old ghost had zero imagination. Salazar sent her a penetrating stare.

"When people, esssspecially men, are young…" He sighed. "I ssssay Godric wassss a brasssh fool, but ssso wasss I… I sssaw mugglebornssss assss a danger to the purity and ssssafety of the wizarding world… Believed them better without their wandssss, eradicated if necessssssary."

The founder looked really sad now, and Crucie felt the urge to say something comforting, but she didn't and let the portrait tell its tale.

"Godric wasss once my besssst friend… But in the end our friendssship became sssour, then bitter, over the mugglebornssss-issssue… I didn't want mugglebornsss in Hogwartssss, he did. I left, but asssked my dear Regina to fulfil a lasssst tassssk, ssso I would get my way after all. Young, brasssh, foolisssh assss I wasss."

"But… is Regina immortal? I mean… you lived in the tenth century."

"I put her in a ssssuspended animation, a ssssleep from which only I or my heir could wake her, during which sssshe didn't age."

Crucie nodded.

"I see… I don't mean to pry, but… If you have a heir, does that mean there was a Mrs Slytherin?"

The founder nodded, a hint of a sad smile on his lips.

"Ah yesss, a pure-blooded wizard hasss an obligation towardsss hisss family to produce a heir and keep hisss bloodline alive…"

"You don't sound very enthusiastic…"

Crucie dared to remark. She got an unexpected answer.

"I'm not sssso proud of my dessscendantsss anymore… Misss Lestrange, if I am not sssso hateful of mugglebornssss these daysss, it issss becausssse of them."

"How… How do you mean?"

"It issss not ssspoken of, but sssince I am sssspeaking now anyway… My family wassss like me, alwayssss keeping their line pure… of course there were often sssecret missstresses that were halfblood or lesssss, and ssssometimessss accidentsss happen with those… but the recognized dessscendantssss were always pure, often married among each other to ssstay that way. After about thoussssand yearsss of that… my family wasssss… damaged."

"Inbred."

"To sssay it crudely, yessss. Seeing my heritage deteriorate as it hasss done… the bessst of my dessscendantsss are probably half-blood, much to my embarassssment."

Crucie felt bad for the portrait. She had since long realized that the portrait of Salazar Slytherin must have been made by a very talented artist, as it seemed that the founder had simply lived on in his portrait, in opposite to many portraits that were only vague echoes of the original person's personality. That meant he had consciously witnessed the deterioration he spoke of…

"I'm sorry."

"Ssso, Missss Lestrange, am I."

They were silent for a little while. Crucie thought about the things she had heard now, about Salazar's family and Regina… It was a sad story, and in all honestly she didn't know too well how to respond to it.

"Do you know who opened the Chamber?"

He shook his head at that question.

"My lasssst direct dessscendant left thissss sssschool yearsss ago… and hasss yet to return…"

"So, you have no family in Hogwarts anymore?"

"Never sssaid that, Misss Lestrange. As I sssaid there have been missstresses, disssowned heirsss, unrecognized children… The Sssslytherin bloodline issss old and livesss on in many… No direct desssscendantssss of coursssse… But there may be many who have the blood of my line in them… Now I consssider, you may be related to me."

"So I could be the heir?"

"Tssss, no. You are a girl. The heir issss alwayssss male."

"That is so misogynist."

"Tssss. Emancipation wassss not invented in the tenth century."

Again they were silent. Crucie decided to break the silence and make one small remark.

"This whole pureblood thing… it's pretty hypocrite, isn't it?"

At first Salazar frowned, but then he cracked a sarcastic smile.

"You ssssound sssurprised, Misss Lestrange."

**(Author's Notes)**

**A new chapter! So, Crucie makes pen-friends with Arthur Weasley, and has a conversation with Salazar on the issue of the Chamber of Secrets. **

**In my opinion the hate that purebloods have against muggleborns and muggles was in the beginning based on historic facts (witch-hunts, general stupidity, religious fanaticism,...) and turned into hypocrisy only later on. Salazar doesn't regret his point of view at the time, but he does regret the way he dealt with the issue in the end a bit. Mostly because it was rather un-slytherin-ish. **

**Also... sorry girls, but he IS a man of the 10th century after all, certain ridiculous ideas about women are to be expected. As I recall from my history courses (I study history after all) women in that age were never considered heirs themselves, even if they had no brothers. They never possessed the titles of their inheritance, but passed them on to their husband in marriage. I think that wouldn't be too different in the wizarding world. **

**Comments, critics, compliments? I love advice, it's the only way I can improve! If you have a question, just ask and I'll try my best to answer it! PLEASE REVIEW! Even if it's just a short note to let me know you read it, I really appreciate it!**


	3. Accidental Cruciatus Curse

After Colin Creevey was found petrified just like Mrs Norris, the fear really hit the school… Many dirty –and frightened- looks were thrown Crucie's way, it was clear that a lot of students suspected that she was the Heir. If only they would take the time to read up on their history… Crucie had, strangely enough, bigger fish to fry. First there was her muggletech project, Arthur Weasley had answered and in the notes he had sent her she was sure the key to the batteries could be found… if only she could concentrate properly on them. That brought her to the second problem; lately she was having trouble concentrating, headaches and trouble sleeping. Crucie suspected she might be getting wizard flu, but it just kept lingering on the edge of not-really-sick-but-still-pretty-miserable, without breaking through. It was disconcerting and annoying… The positive note so far was that with all the fuss going on about the Chamber of Secrets and her projects, she had managed not to torture anyone, not even Timor. It was a new record for her… Crucie tried not to think about it though, thinking of cruciating someone was like thinking of chocolate fudge pie when on a diet: absolute torture in itself.

_(Pagebreak)_

"So… what if it's not Draco?"

"It is totally him, I'm sure."

Harry was having a few doubts about their hypothesis, Ron clearly didn't. They were looking at Hermione preparing the Polyjuice Potion... The girl listened to the boy's conversation, but didn't interfere. She had to concentrate for one, and she didn't want to share her thoughts anyway. Crucio Black with her dark family, about who all these bizarre rumours went around, who had fearlessly fought a troll, who had made friends with Salazar Slytherin's portrait… Who she had once considered a friend… Hermione didn't really know why she had so abruptly broken contact with the Slytherin girl. Was it the group pressure, was it prejudice, or fear? She didn't know. And now… Draco Malfoy could very well be the Heir, but Crucio Black was at least an equally eligible candidate. Harry hated Malfoy far more than Black –courtesy of Quidditch- so he was focussed on the boy, and Ron duly followed him in that. Hermione's mind on the other hand kept going over all the conversations she had had with Crucie. What if her former friend really was the Heir? It seemed both very likely and highly improbable… They left to Potions class, nervous about their little plan to get the last necessary ingredients, but Hermione was nervous about something else. In her coat pocket burned a little note she hoped to sneak between Crucie's books…

_(Pagebreak)_

Potions class had been hilarious according to many, and a disaster according to Professor Snape. Sometimes Crucie felt a bit sorry for him, he was already such a grump and it seemed that everyone was only keen on making him grumpier. Someone –and she had the slight suspicion it had been Harry Potter- had thrown fireworks in the cauldron of Crabbe and Goyle, and the class had been a true mess after that. The second hour of classes had been suspended and Snape had looked close to a nervous breakdown… Back in her dorms Crucie looked for her books so she could write her paper for Defence Against the Dark Arts. She hated Lockhart, but she wanted to show him that she could very well excel in her studies… All she hoped was that he really expected a paper on Banshees and not a treatise of what could be his favourite meal. To her surprise she found a small note in her bag.

_I am sorry I broke contact with you; you were a good friend. I don't know the reason why I did what I did; I just hope we could perhaps talk about it. I never even thanked you for helping to save my life when that troll attacked! I'll be in the library this evening, in the aisle of the books about magical creatures. Feel free to come and see me._

_Hermione_

Crucie couldn't believe it… Hermione wanted to be friends again? A little voice in the back of her head told her that it was probably a ruse to find out whether or not she was the Heir… but she decided to ignore it. It would be great to have her friend back. That evening she wasn't feeling too well, she had the idea the flu had finally broken through, but it didn't matter for she couldn't miss her appointment with Hermione. The bushy-haired girl was indeed waiting for her at a little table, reading a book about banshees.

"Err… hi."

She looked up, and smiled. A bit forced though.

"Hi. I'm… I'm glad you came."

Crucie nodded.

"I'm glad you let me know something. I… I was very sorry we broke contact last year."

"So… so am I. I'm sorry I did that. It was stupid and prejudiced and… well yeah. I shouldn't have done that. You kinda helped saving my life and in return I started ignoring you."

Crucie smiled as she saw that Hermione's slight distress was genuine.

"That's okay. It's… I understand it. I'm not on the best terms with your friends after all."

"They told me you were dangerous, that you would have sent that troll on me if not for them and things like that. Well, Ron did. Harry just said I had to be careful with you. I… Now I look back on it, it was pretty idiotic…"

Internally, Crucie raged at that horrible Ron Weasley. If not for her pen pal Mr Weasley she would gladly curse that kid. Ah, cursing him… cursing anyone… Crucie suppressed the urge, and immediately a migraine-ish feeling surged through her head. She hissed, and Hermione looked worried.

"Crucie, are you okay? You look sick…"

"I'm… You better not come to close to me, I think I'm having the flu. I just didn't want you to think I ignored your message, otherwise I probably would have stayed in bed."

Hermione observed the girl. She had always been light-skinned, but now she was sickly pale. Her eyes lay deep in her sockets and a feverish blush adorned her cheeks.

"We can have this talk another time, you know…"

Crucie shook her head.

"Nah, I'm fine. Fine enough for now."

"Either way, I just wanted to say that I am sorry for how I behaved myself, and I hoped we could perhaps be friends again. I understand if you don't want to, but… just know that I'm really, really sorry and don't have anything against you."

Hermione looked pleading, and Crucie smiled.

"I'd like to be friends again too. I missed your insights… It's hard working with muggle tech when you have no clue what things are for…"

Hermione was surprised.

"You continued our research project?"

"All summer long… I've found some cool things, perhaps I can show them to you."

Hermione nodded, but then looked rather strict at her.

"I'd love to, but you really look sick and should go to bed. We can't do research when you're ill!"

"I… I guess that's true…"

Crucie made her way to the Slytherin Dungeon, but when she tried to sleep she couldn't. All night she lay awake. Timor was awake too; he softly mewed next to her head. Crucie knew what the cat wanted…

"Shush Timor, I'm sleeping. You know I can't give you what you want now, I promised myself I wouldn't."

"Mew."

The cat sounded disappointed. Lying in bed she shook her head. What animal would be disappointed for not receiving torture?

"Mew…"

Her cat, obviously... Crucie turned around in bed and tried once more to sleep. The first nights that she couldn't sleep she had busied herself with studying the data in her torture book and drawing graphs of her improvements… Now she just turfed away the days until the first break. It wasn't long now, it was almost Christmas; she would ask Uncle Rabastan if she could come home. It was bad enough being sick, but it was worse being sick with no one around to care…

_(Pagebreak)_

The next day was worse than all others. Crucie wished she could just stay in bed, but she had to get up and drag herself to Defence Against the Dark Arts to at least hand in that stupid paper. It seemed like the distance to the classroom was far longer than usual, her head was pounding and the ugly glares she received from people didn't really help either… She felt really sick. Lockhart was his usual boisterous and arrogant self, and it irked Crucie even more than usual. That man made her migraine become exponentially worse… She went to Lockhart to hand in her paper, but the moment she put the parchment on the desk, a sudden dizziness overcame her.

"Damn…"

With that she fainted. The whole class stared at her, but she didn't know that. She opened her eyes almost immediately again, but her mind was clouded and her control slipping like sand between her fingers. Lockhart stood bent over her, asking what was wrong, but it sounded deformed in her ears.

"Miss Black, let me help you get up…"

He smiled that obnoxious smile, and Crucie grabbed his hand. That instant the smile disappeared and made place for an expression of absolute horror. His eyes seemed to bulge, his mouth opened in a wordless scream and she heard him gasp, and then wail like one of the banshees they had studied. The whole class was in turmoil, people were screaming and yelling things at both her and Professor Lockhart, some students went to seek help while others just ran away to save themselves. Crucie didn't really pay attention to all that… All she felt was an enormous relief flooding her. If Lockhart hadn't been under a very desperate cruciatus curse at that time, he would have seen that her dark irises had gotten a reddish gleam, red like the colour of the curse when fired from a wand. Yet at that time he was just screaming his throat hoarse and didn't really pay attention to the details of his torture. Crucie felt great again for the first time in weeks, and she would have gone on torturing Lockhart, but suddenly she also felt terribly tired. She still wasn't thinking too clearly, and when her body told her to close her eyes and let go she just did, drifting off into the first decent bit of sleep since her symptoms had started. The moment Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape stormed into the classroom, they found Lockhart in a state of terrified shock, mewling incoherently, while Crucie was lying on the floor in an almost comatosely deep sleep…

**(Author's Notes)**

**New Chapter! Accidental torture for Lockhart and a mystery illness for Crucie! (I told you she would get in trouble, didn't I?) I don't think it's very hard to guess what made Crucie ill... Also, of all the DADA teachers throughout the years I hated Lockhart the most, so I thought he deserved this. After all, he ends up crazy anyway, I just changed how it happened ;)**

**And Crucie and Hermione rekindle their friendship... yay!**

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

**I really, really love reviews. They make me super happy. You people are my only way of getting better at writing! Please leave a review and help a struggling writer; comments, critics, compliments alike, I love every review no matter how negative it might be. It can only help to make me improve! **

**Cookies for all my previous reviewers, I cherish you all!**


	4. Banter In The Infirmary

**COME ON! DON'T DO THIS TO ME! Y U NO REVIEW?! *begging face***

When she opened her eyes again, she felt extremely well rested. Her surroundings were strange, but soon she recognized it as the infirmary… that was the moment she also remembered what had happened. Everything was rather fuzzy, but she was pretty sure she had tortured Professor Lockhart. It made her gasp in fear. She had actually tortured a professor in front of the class, for everyone to see!

"Oh, you're awake. Great."

That was a strangely familiar voice. Crucie turned her head and caught sight of…

"Uncle Lucius?"

The blonde rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Who else? You've gotten yourself in quite a bit of trouble, young lady!"

She slicked.

"What… exactly?"

"Well, for one you've tortured that ignorant git of a teacher of yours, I think he's over there…" Lucius pointed at another bed with a curtain around it, "And if Draco is to be believed everyone thinks you opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"I didn't."

Crucie replied softly. Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"No? Too bad."

She chuckled at that, but then became serious again.

"What… what am I to do now?"

"You mean, what am I to do now!? You do realize it's me who cleans up behind you, right?"

"I'm sorry…"

Lucius put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry. I kind of owe it to Narcissa… not to mention that I actually like you."

That was a strangely affectionate thing to say for the usually stoic Lord Malfoy, and Crucie knew it. She smiled even though the situation still confused her.

"So… then what will you do?"

"It's already done. Dumbledore explained it all by saying you were ill with a rare form of Seer's Fever, which as you may know causes vivid nightmares and daydreams that can be shared with someone at a touch. Apparently your dream was so frightening it deeply traumatized Professor Lockhart."

Crucie almost couldn't believe it. It sounded highly unlikely.

"And… they actually believed that?"

"Well, the fact you were unconscious for three days was quite telling, it convinced most people that you were actually sick. I'm still curious after what you actually did."

"I just… didn't do anything. I hadn't used my talent in months and I felt horrible. I don't really remember what happened."

Lucius frowned and shook his head when hearing that.

"Stupid girl! You could have caused yourself and others irreversible damage!"

Crucie frowned as well at that.

"How should I have known!?"

Her uncle sighed and shook his head again.

"Don't ever do that again. You have that silly cat of yours; make sure you practice on it at least once a week, like I told you to do last year."

"So… if you knew this could happen, why didn't you warn me?"

"I didn't think you would think to completely stop using your gift all of a sudden. Apparently I was wrong."

"I'm sorry…"

"Why did you do it?"

"Curiosity… I wanted to test if I could go without… you know, just in case."

Someone coughed, and they both looked up. Albus Dumbledore had joined them.

"Mr Malfoy, it was most courteous of you to come visit your ward like this."

It sounded very… sarcastic, for Dumbledore's usual tone. Lucius frowned and viciously answered.

"Of course I came here, with everything that is happening here these days I was far from assured she would be well cared for."

"I would like to speak with Miss Black… alone."

The older Malfoy sent the headmaster a glare, but still got up.

"Well then, it appears I am no longer welcome. Get well soon, Crucie. And send your friend in London a letter, he is worried out of his mind about you, and very sorry he couldn't come see you himself."

With that, he walked out of the infirmary. Crucie grinned when she saw he was wearing the bow she had sent him for Christmas the year before… When the door closed her grin disappeared. Dumbledore looked imposing as always, and Crucie didn't exactly feel in a favourable position, lying in a hospital bed in her pyjamas.

"I suspect Mr Malfoy has explained what we have told the students?"

"Yes…"

"I am sorry if the books I asked you to read have perhaps changed your opinion on the justification of torture and…"

Crucie felt the need to interrupt him. She blurted out.

"I didn't stop torturing because I think it's bad, Professor. I like it and those books never changed my opinion. I was simply curious to see if I could go without it, because you had said you weren't sure if I could."

A moment it looked as if Dumbledore would reprimand her for interrupting, but then he nodded and sighed.

"I see."

"I… I'm sorry I tortured Professor Lockhart like this. Is he okay?"

"He's not in the best state ever, but he will be... probably. You hit him pretty hard, but fortunately for him not long enough to cause much permanent brain damage. The emotional trauma might cause some trouble… however nothing absolutely irreversible. I think. I hope."

Crucie nodded pensively, and Dumbledore continued.

"Unforgivables are emotional curses. They require the user to truly mean them with all their heart otherwise they don't work. I suspect you know this. It is said that the curse is present inside you before the words are spoken, the emotions, magic and intention are already there… and the incantation simply sets it all free. People who tried an unforgivable but backed out right before pronunciation often describe the feeling as unpleasant tension, almost physical disappointment. Does that sound familiar to you?"

Crucie nodded.

"If my suspicions are correct, the cruciatus curse is permanently present inside you, interwoven with your magic, perhaps even with your soul. If not released from time to time, the tension becomes sickening."

"Why didn't anyone tell me this earlier? Why didn't you tell me last year?"

"I didn't know at the time, Miss… Black. For all my knowledge the unforgivable curses are not my specialty. Your condition sparked my curiosity and I have done some research on the subject."

"So… how did I get this… condition?"

"As I said, the curse is inside you before pronunciation of the incantation. It is possible that when a pregnant woman uses the curse, part of it stays behind in the foetus and melts with its magical core. This is all very speculative, of course."

"Right."

"You are the first student of Hogwarts with this condition, Miss Black, but we have had other students with special and sometimes dangerous needs. Mr Malfoy has ensured me that you are able to control yourself when given regular outlet, and I tend to believe he is right."

"So… I'm not getting punished?"

"I… took the liberty of restoring the damage done by your head of house when he heard of what you had caused."

That made Crucie smile.

"Thank you."

"I didn't think you deserved such loss of points, since you couldn't help it."

Dumbledore smiled friendly at her, and Crucie immediately felt better. She watched the headmaster leave, and pondered on the three days she had lost. Was this the third or the fourth day? She seriously doubted that everyone would believe the story of the mysterious illness; they had just seen all the rumours confirmed… And poor uncle Rabastan, he was probably completely upset about it all. She hoped she would be allowed to leave soon, so she could write him a letter.

**(Author's Notes)**

**I'm being obnoxious again, but still... PLEASE REVIEW! If you don't like it, just tell me, okay? I hate not knowing if people don't review because they're forgetting, or because they actually don't think my story worth a note. All comments, even the very negative ones, are welcome. I try my best to answer reviews and give credit to those who inspire me. so PLEASE? **

**Also: Lucius Malfoy in school? Obviously Rabastan couldn't come. Also, I'm going with the line that Lucius doesn't know the diary is capable of possessing people and opening the Chamber; that he just had been ordered to get it smuggled into Hogwarts on a certain point. Of course Lucius isn't stupid, so when he realizes none of the obvious candidates (Draco, Crucie, other dark Slytherins of which he knows the family,...) have opened it, he's probably gonna make the link. Anyway. **

**Any questions, fire away! I love them! **


	5. An Issue With A Tail And Ears

In the evening, when Crucie just wanted to put away her books and go to sleep, she heard a strangely familiar voice.

"Crucie?"

"Who is there?"

She clenched her wand, previously used for a simple lumos, and looked around her.

"Please don't do what you… do. It's me, Hermione."

"Show yourself."

The girl cast a lumos, showing her face, and Crucie immediately lowered her wand. She whispered.

"What are you doing here?"

Hermione looked embarrassed. In the light of the lumos charm it was hard to see, but it appeared she had… whiskers.

"I'm here too… potions accident."

"Do you have whiskers?"

Now she looked really embarrassed.

"It's even worse."

She held her wand to her head, showing a pair of cat ears. Then she lowered it and unveiled a fluffy cat tail.

"Wow. How did that happen?"

"I… I'll tell you, if you tell me why you are here."

"Well, err… I don't really remember what happened, but apparently I was ill with this…"

Hermione interrupted.

"Don't even try. I heard everything, just wanted to see if you would lie to me. I think Dumbledore had forgotten about me, because, you know, most of the patients here are either petrified, or unaccountable, or you, so…"

Crucie paled.

"Oh… damn…"

Hermione quickly said.

"I believe you. That you didn't open the Chamber, I mean. I didn't at first, and after that… incident I was almost certain it was you, but… You sounded really disappointed yourself when you said it wasn't you. So I believe you."

"Right. So, what are you going to do? Discredit the staff by telling everyone they lied about what really happened?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No. I… I trust Dumbledore, and he apparently trusts you. And… You really couldn't help it. I've seen it, you were really sick. It's seriously strange, but I… I do believe you really need to torture."

"And you don't have a problem with it?"

Hermione looked a bit uncertain.

"It's not like I'm okay with it, but… when we made friends for the first time, we agreed not to discuss politics, religion, family, heritage, house things and all that stuff… I guess torture can be added to that list. I don't understand how it's possible, like really not, but you are not a bad person. You are a really nice person who just likes to torture people."

Crucie had by now a big grin on her face. Hermione, the brilliant muggleborn witch who supported rights for creatures, animals, muggles, and all kinds of other goody-two-shoes things… she was the first person that accepted her as she was, that actually understood?

"Are you serious?"

Hermione nodded.

"I am. I don't understand it myself, but something tells me you just can't be a bad person. The torture thing makes me feel really uncomfortable, but I don't care too much."

"Hah. Uncomfortable. I was wondering when that would come up… Everyone who knows about this calls it uncomfortable."

"Right. I don't know if you know, but… It kind of is."

"I wouldn't know… I was planning to ask my uncle to cruciate me once so I would know how it feels myself."

Hermione looked rather dumbstruck.

"You aren't just the weirdest Slytherin I've ever met. I think you're just the weirdest person."

"I'll take that as a compliment…" Crucie looked again at Hermione's whiskers. "So, what happened to you to change you into half a cat?"

"As I said, potions accident… Polyjuice potion."

"Where did you get that?"

"I made it myself… Ron, Harry and I were planning on sneaking into your common room to see if Malfoy was the Heir. We sedated Crabbe and Goyle and trapped them in a closet, after stealing a bit of their hair… I had grabbed a hair of Millicent Bulstrode… I thought."

"It was a cat's hair."

"Exactly. So this happened." Hermione pointed at the whiskers. "It was worse at first, I had fur too, and my eyes had changed colour, and my nails… I need to take a potion to counter it three times a day, but it works rather slowly, especially on so-called extra extremities like tails and ears."

"I think it looks cute. Can I touch your tail?"

Hermione sat down on the bed, and Crucie softly patted the fluffy tail.

"I think I finally know why cats like to be patted."

"I can scratch behind your ears too, you know…"

"That would be over the top."

"But now you have the chance to find out what a cat feels when you do that…"

"Fine, for science then."

And Hermione held her head closer to Crucie, who grinningly scratched the girl behind her small pointy cat ears. Hermione looked as if she was about to purr.

"I think I'm going to be even more jealous of my cat now…"

"So nice?"

"You have no idea."

It was odd, and perhaps even a bit… "uncomfortable", the way they sat together on the bed in the infirmary, while Crucie patted and scratched Hermione's cat parts… But it was fun too.

"You can never tell anyone about this."

"Don't worry, I'm good at keeping secrets… By the way, did Ron and Harry still go to spy on the Slytherins?"

"They did. It's not Malfoy."

"I could have told you. Uncle Lucius would never have asked if it was me if his own son was the Heir. And trust me, he would know. Draco is obsessed with getting his dad's approval, he would definitely have told him."

"Obsessed with getting the approval of his father, scared of heights… he sounds pretty pathetic actually."

"Oh, add to that he's a terrible coward and he peed his bed until he was 10. I did make up the fear of heights thing, because… well, I did actually torture him last year."

Hermione chuckled at first, and then became serious.

"It's creepy how little trouble you have with lying."

"I don't like doing it. I'm just good at it."

"You are so weird."

"Thanks." Crucie laughed. "You know, of all the professors who I could have tortured I'm glad it was Lockhart."

Hermione looked indignant now.

"But he's brilliant, how can you say such a thing! Brilliant, brave, and not to mention hot… How can you not like him?!"

"Wow. We so have a different taste in guys. He's arrogant and self-absorbed. And he wears purple brocade capes in a non-ironic way. I mean, come on! He's the personification of tacky!"

"Harry and Ron don't like him either, but I think they're just jealous of him."

"Tssss…"

"If you don't like Lockhart… then who do you think is hot?"

Crucie shrugged and thought about it.

"Of the teachers? Please. Flitwick is friendly but really tiny, Dumbledore is ages old, Binns is a ghost –and a boring one at that-, and Snape is just… Snape. No teachers for me, really."

"And what about the boys of your House? There must be one you think is attractive?"

Crucie laughed. Of all things she had thought to be doing with Hermione Granger, discussing boys hadn't been her guess. It felt somewhat relieving, talking about something so mundane. She saw Hermione's questioning look and answered.

"The problem is that I know a lot of the Slytherin boys from when I was little, because our families are friends, so I know all the dirty details about them. Not very attractive."

Hermione chuckled.

"So, Crabbe and Goyle peed their beds as well?"

"Not that I know, but they were really stupid. Still are, actually."

"We left cake laced with a sedative in the hallway, floating in front of their face, and they just ate it."

Crucie nodded.

"Yep. Sounds like them. They are total idiots."

"So, no Slytherin boys for you?"

"Well, Zabini is okay, and I suppose Theodore Nott isn't too bad either… But it's really random; I don't know them all that well. And I'm not really interested either. Maybe my uncle will arrange a marriage when the time comes, and until then I'm just happy on my own."

Hermione's mouth dropped.

"What? Arranged marriage? But that's so medieval! Is this a common practice?"

"It's a pureblood-thing. I don't know if he will actually do it, but I know that my parents, their parents, and he himself all have had arranged marriages, so it's very likely."

Crucie thought about their parents' marriage. Her parents would never force her into such a thing after what they had been through themselves… Uncle Lucius on the other hand…

"Wow."

"So, muggles don't arrange marriages?"

"I think they did that back in the medieval age, but these days it's considered a bit backwards... Muggles think freedom of choice is very important. Don't you mind the idea of not choosing your partner yourself?"

Crucie shrugged.

"I mind it more that my parents won't be present at my marriage."

"Sorry…"

"It's okay… I've… I've had time to get used to them not being there."

She didn't say that she still looked at the photos every night, that she often wished she could revert time and tell her mother not to leave that one night, that she sometimes dreamed of her parents and woke up crying… she didn't say anything of that.

"I'm still sorry. I… We agreed not to discuss this, and I don't need to know anything about your family, but… if you would ever want to talk about this, I'll listen."

"Thanks…"

There hung a bit of silence in the room. Finally Hermione said.

"Harry can speak Parseltongue, apparently, and now a lot of people think he's the Heir. And two more people got petrified while you were unconscious, so I think most people won't suspect you anymore."

"It could never have been me, by the way. The Heir has to be male, or so I've been told, by someone who should know."

"Speaking of people who should know, doesn't the portrait of Slytherin know who it is?"

Crucie shook her head.

"No. It's a long story, not mine to tell, but the bottom line is that he doesn't know."

"I'm… I trust Dumbledore, I really do, but… I'm still a bit scared. Apparently the last time the Chamber opened, a muggleborn girl died."

"Only one?"

"Uhuh. Somehow the attacks stopped."

"Weird. I see where you're coming from though."

"Something less macabre to talk about… you said you had made progress on the research?"

Crucie grinned again, and they started discussing muggle tech, leaving the tougher subjects for what they were. The night was almost over when Hermione finally retreated to her own bed…

**(Author's Notes)**

**A new chapter! Yay! **

**So, there were people who feared that Hermione and Crucie would drift apart again, but no such thing happened. Hermione is not completely moral-driven, and now that she's seen that Crucie really needs the torture to survive she has forced herself to accept it. She's all for equal rights, this including dangerous creatures, and Hermione's a lot but not a hypocrite. Besides, Crucie IS a really nice person who would go to very Gryffindor-esque lengths to help and protect her friends and family. I think Hermione knows that. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

**Questions and comments, critics and compliments, send them my way! I love each and every one of my reviewers, through your feedback alone I can learn and improve! Please don't let me see a painful zero reviews ever again, that just feels really discouraging. **


	6. The Tale Of The Exploding Can of Beans

Hermione had to stay another couple of days in he infirmary, as her tail appeared to be very reluctant to leave the premises, but Crucie was released only a day after their nightly conversation. Hermione's words had given her the hope that perhaps the students wouldn't glare at her anymore as they had done, but apparently it didn't matter that they now had a new crown suspect. Quite a few people clearly didn't believe the story of her mysterious illness… She overheard a tall Gryffindor talk about her to his friend, and his words really stung.

"She may not be the Heir, but she's at least as bad as his monster…"

The urge to cough and make her presence known was great, but Crucie didn't want to lose time –and possibly points- for causing a disturbance in the halls. Instead she walked on to the secluded corner. She had quite a lot to discuss with the Slytherin founder… The portrait frame was empty, but as usual it didn't take long for the man to arrive.

"Missss Lestrange!"

"Hi Mr Slytherin…"

"You have causssssed quite the hassssle… The portraitssss sssspoke about nothing elsssse for dayssss! I wanted to come sssseee you, but that ssssstubborn hossspital witch refussssed to leave her portrait, the inssssipid quim…"

That made Crucie blush. It didn't happen too often that Salazar Slytherin became very vocal about things, but when he did a decent portion of archaic expletives was always present. In a way it was almost a compliment that he found his inability to visit her worth cussing over.

"You wanted to come see me?"

"Mosssstly becausssse I wassss bored."

Right, very likely. Crucie smiled.

"Thanks for thinking about it anyway."

"You're welcome."

"So, I haven't missed too much good gossip?"

"Unlessss you like to hear about yoursssself, no."

They sat in silence a bit, while Crucie wrote a letter to Rabastan. At last she asked.

"You told me Regina was your best friend… What was she like?"

Crucie looked up at the portrait, and saw that the founder seemed strangely melancholic all of a sudden.

"Ssshe'ssss… a mosssst intelligent persssson… You would call her a creature, but sssssshe's forever a persssson to me, Missss Lestrange. Alwayssss lisssstening and giving advicesssss… Sssshe wassss the perssson who lissstened to me when Godric and I ssstarted fighting, and her humour made my day good whenever thingsss were looking down… which I sssuppossse wassss mossst of the time in those daysss. I conssssider her part of my family."

It sounded indeed more like a person than like whatever creature this Regina probably was.

"How did you actually meet her?"

"Sssshe wasss born in the Chamber of Ssssecretsss… A queen of her kind, from the very firsssst day, a worthy familiar for the Slytherin king… It wassss arrogance, yesss… But I raissssed her… and ssssoon sssshe became my friend. Even though sssshe rarely left the Chamber, ssshe alwaysss had a ssssmart opinion on thingssss. Few thingsss have helped me assss her council did."

The way Salazar described Regina made Crucie almost wish she could meet this woman. To earn such compliments from a man as the Slytherin founder one had to be a very special person…

"Sssshe… The day I left, I asssked her to fulfil my lassst wish, and ssssshe promisssed sssshe would. I never doubted her. My Regina, ssshe wassss heartbroken when I left, and ssso wasss I…"

"I'm… I'm sorry."

He looked at Crucie.

"My Regina would have liked you, if not for the language barrier..."

"I wish I could get to know her… But I don't speak any kind of creature language indeed… Speaking of which, I've heard Harry Potter is a parselmouth."

Salazar raised an eyebrow.

"Tssss… I have relativesss in ssstrange placesss, it ssseeems…"

"HE's related to you?"

"Possssibly. Most parsssselmouthsss are."

"It just seems really weird, since he's in Gryffindor and all."

"Asss I sssaid; ssstrange placesss."

Crucie laughed.

"Yeah… But he's not the Heir, according to Hermione."

"Sssso, you have made ammendssss with the muggleborn?"

"I have. She… I know it sounds totally ridiculous, but she overheard a lot of my conversations with uncle Lucius and Dumbledore… and she just accepted it."

"Then sssshe issss a more worthy persssson I ssssuppossse than many."

It took him a thousand years, but alas, the time had come that Salazar Slytherin would deem a muggleborn worthy. Crucie smiled widely. "But don't tell her I ssssaid ssso."

"Of course not."

_(Pagebreak)_

_Dear Crucio, _

_You almost gave your poor old uncle a heart attack! Don't ever do that again hear me?! Blonde-And-Arrogant had to forcefully stop me because I would actually have come to see you. Would even have braved the horrible taste of polyjuice potion for it. Either way, I'm glad to hear you're fine again. _

_I have heard about the Chamber being opened… you don't have to worry though; the Heir only targets mudbloods. Just saying. _

_Not much is happening here in London, but you have the best wishes from both Mr Borgin and Mr Burke, they've apparently acquired an original edition of "The Torturous Torture Book" and believe that you might be interested… So you have something to look forward to!_

_I also have some serious news. I shouldn't be telling you this, but I have the strange suspicion that your other uncle is hiding something. He's not been himself since he came back from Hogwarts, and since I trust you not to have tortured him I'm at loss of what to think of it. Could you let me know if something's wrong with your cousin, perhaps? The only thing I could think of was that he might have found himself a muddy girlfriend, although I hope not, it would positively kill his father. _

_Much love,_

_Your Uncle_

Crucie chortled when reading Rabastan's suspicions… Draco having a non-pureblood girlfriend? No chance in hell, he would first need someone to pull the stick from his arse for that… Not to mention that Draco cared far too much about the family name to ever blemish it in such a way. Tssss. There was also a letter from Mr Weasley, who inquired after her health –she had apologized for not writing quite some time due to illness- and sent her some more notes. Now she was able to concentrate again, Crucie went over them, and got the urge to scream and just curse someone with pure excitement. What Arthur wrote about muggle fuels, fuel cells, and the description of possible magical materials that could spark a similar reaction but for magic instead of electricity was exactly what she had been looking for. Of course she would have to look further into it, but this could mean the key to a breakthrough!

_(Pagebreak)_

"This is brilliant, Crucie. How did you come up with this?"

"I have this pen pal who also is interested in muggle technology. We have been writing each other quite a lot, and he sent me a list of ingredient combinations he tested for a fuel-potion of some sort. It's based on what he did earlier to power a muggle vehicle… I never thought to work from big to small instead of the other way around! I mean, we've studied batteries and everything, but apparently something called a car fuel cells is far easier to enchant than the lithium-ion things we've worked with!"

Crucie was getting excited…

"So, basically a potion made with these ingredients would be capable of storing magical energy?"

"That's the idea, I suppose…"

"It's a beginning, and a brilliant one at that… But how do we go from potion to battery? And where do we get the energy to store in the potion to begin with? How do we make a potion compatible with the devices it has to serve for?"

Those were good questions… Sitting in the secluded corner, with candles lighting their notes and Salazar Slytherin silently observing them, they thought them over. Crucie suddenly remembered something.

"You know… I think I once accidentally stored energy in an object."

Hermione –and Salazar- looked surprised.

"Oh?"

"I was 9… And my uncle had me grounded because I had cursed a ministry official..."

The reactions were to be expected.

"Crucie!"

"Tssss…"

"Will you not interrupt me? So I was 9 and stuck in the apartment and I was bored. There was a can of baked beans on the counter, and I tried to curse it a few times to see what it would do."

Hermione apparently remembered something as well.

"I think I know where this is going…"

Crucie's grin widened as she continued the story.

"It didn't do anything… at first. When my uncle came home he decided he wanted to eat beans for dinner. And the can exploded."

"I can ssssseee how that happened, yesss…"

Salazar remarked hissing, and Hermione gave Crucie a friendly whack to the head.

"That's so irresponsible!"

"I was 9!"

"You are the only person I can imagine who would cruciate a can of beans."

"It's not like I had so much else to do…"

Hermione shook her head. She couldn't believe it herself, the things she was doing now. Only a little while ago she spent all her time in the library or with Ron and Harry, and now she found herself in a hidden candlelit corridor talking casually about cruciating things to a notorious Slytherin and an equally notorious portrait, having a great time. The hows and why's of it all somewhat escaped her, so she tried not to think about them too much. She pragmatically remarked,

"If anything, it proves the energy of a spell can somehow be stored."

"In a can of beans. That exploded."

"Imagine it would be a can of the potion we've been talking about?"

They were silent again. The possibilities were right there, but both Crucie and Hermione could see the trouble they would be facing if they were to go through with it. They had the hypothetical ingredients for the potion, but no clear instructions or measurements for how to brew it. Storing energy in cans was perhaps an option, but how to get it out without explosions was still a mystery, not even mentioning making the eventual batteries muggle device-compatible.

"This is too exciting to give up already,"

Crucie stated. Hermione nodded, and for a moment it was as if Salazar gave an approving nod as well.

"True…"

"So… what do you think, we raid Snape's cupboard?"

**(Author's Notes)**

**I hope you realize how big a compliment Salazar has made Crucie... xD**

**And Rabastan's suspicions... well, I guess we all know about Lucius' role in the diary getting to Hogwarts... As I think I've said before, I go with the idea that Lucius didn't know what the diary would do until after his visit to Hogwarts...**

**Please review. Your reviews give me the feedback I need to improve, and I cherish them all. No question goes unanswered! I like critics, even really harsh ones, those make me improve. If you have a comment or suggestion, those are always welcome as well. Please? Help out a struggling writer? I often wonder how good my portrayal of canon characters is, if you think they're too OOC, please let me know. **

**Love to you all, and again, PLEASE REVIEW!**


	7. Not-So-Royal Flush For Mr Riddle

"I need to pee. I need to pee-hee!"

"I heard you the first time, Pansy."

The girl turned angrily to Crucie.

"If you know it all so well, then where is the closest toilet?"

Leave it to Pansy Parkinson to sound haughty and conceited while talking about toilets. Crucie looked at Daphne and almost chortled. Pansy didn't notice, she just stood there; legs crossed tightly but hands in her side as if he was reprimanding them. All in all it was a funny sight. Crucie looked around, desperate for something to distract her laughing muscles from Pansy, and realized they were in a familiar corridor. The corridor where she had encountered the mountain troll last year.

"There is a toilet."

"Oh no, not that one! It has a ghost, I can't stand ghosts!"

Crucie raised an eyebrow, wondering if she could perhaps send a tiny streak of pain to Pansy, just enough to make her wet her robes.

"Do you need a toilet or not?"

Eventually, the need broke the law, and the whole clique went into the abandoned girl's toilet.

"There's no toilet paper anywhere! And everything is wet! Urgh! Argh! This is so gross! I'm probably going to get some dirty infection from these!"

"Just pee, Pansy."

Crucie was the only one in the group who never went along with Pansy's dramatic whims, and because being enemies with her was a rather painful affair no one objected to it. Even though not everyone believed the rumours, the fact that Pansy barely dared to talk back at her told them enough. It wasn't that the Slytherin girls were all obnoxious, dumb, and shallow, actually quite the contrary, but Pansy was a rare exception with an unfortunate big mouth. Again, Pansy's high voice rang through the toilet.

"Yuck, something's stuck in the toilet! I can't pee here!"

"Then take another stall…"

Pansy hurried to another stall, and Crucie went to see what the apparently disgusting mystery object could be. It turned out to be a book. A very wet book. She reached out for it, when a voice came from the toilet.

"Take it, the horrible thing! Throw it back through my head if you will! Start a new game; lets flush things through Myrtle's head! As if being dead isn't bad enough like this!"

Moaning Myrtle, owner of perhaps the only voice harder on the ears than Pansy's, floated out of the toilet. Crucie grabbed the book, quickly apologized to the ghost for whoever had tried to flush a book through her head, and made her way out of the stall, where all the girls were already waiting.

"Where were you staying now?! You weren't talking to that disgusting ghost, were you?"

"No, just taking a leak as well."

Crucie met Daphne's questioning eyes, but didn't show her the book she had hidden under her robes. Whatever it was, she wanted to find out for herself first.

_(Pagebreak)_

After drying the book, she decided to examine the contents. Those were fairly anticlimactic, as the book was completely empty. Crucie knew there had to be more to the book, she hadn't spent her childhood in a shop for Dark Artefacts for nothing… No one would flush an empty book for no reason. When she examined it more clearly, she found it wasn't completely empty. On the first page someone with neat handwriting had penned "Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle". The name didn't sound familiar to Crucie. A quick spell taught her no invisible ink was used, and there were no traces of erasure on the pages either. Recalling all the lessons from Mr Burke and Mr Borgin on how to identify the properties of an artefact, she tried different things, even cruciating the diary. For a moment she imagined she had felt it quiver… definitely not just an empty book.

"Well, Mr Riddle… let's see if you will tell me your secrets."

She mumbled to herself, dipping her quill in ink and writing.

**_Hello Mr Riddle. Are you there?_**

When the ink disappeared from the pages, Crucie grinned. Success. A moment later, another handwriting appeared on the page.

_I am. Who are you? _

That made her frown. Uncovering a possibly dark artefact was one thing, interacting with it was something entirely else. She had seen books that could burn your eyes out, poison you by reading them or curse you to have bad luck forever; in any case it wasn't a good idea to play around with this thing. The previous owner obviously hadn't liked it. As she hesitated, more writing appeared.

_I apologize if I have offended you, perhaps I should have posed my question more politely. As you apparently know, my name is Tom Riddle. I would like to know yours._

Crucie smiled. A little writing wouldn't hurt, would it?

**_My name is Crucio, but please call me Crucie._**

She didn't have to wait long for a response.

_Crucio, interesting name… What family are you from?_

Now she debated what last name to use. Both were dark families, something she was sure the diary would like… Should she be honest? She decided not.

**_I belong to The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black._**

It was something she could imagine her mother writing.

_Toujours Pur, no? I have known your ancestors._

Now that was cool.

**_So you've been to Hogwarts and everything?_**

The diary answered her immediately.

_Of course. If I may ask, how did you get your name? Is it official?_

**_It is. My mother said it hurt like a Cruciatus curse when I was born, hence the name._**

_I see. And are you proficient in your namesake?_

**_That is such a thing to ask for a dark artefact, seriously. If you really want to know, yes. Did you feel it when I cursed you?_**

Now the diary took a little longer to reply, and Crucie wondered if she had offended it.

_In fact, I did. It has been a long time since I last felt something so… strong._

**_Do you like pain?_**

_I am a diary; I don't feel physical pain... I liked the strength of your curse. It is… invigorating._

**_Can I do it again?_**

_If you wish._

Crucie grinned widely and put her hand on the diary while letting loose the curse, feeling how the book quivered under it.

_Please stop._

Those words made her stop indeed.

**_Did it hurt after all? I'm just curious. _**

_No._

**_Liar, liar, book on fire!_**

_Fine. It hurt a bit. _

That was all Crucie wanted to know… Except perhaps how a diary could feel pain, or respond to questions.

**_Good to know. Mr Riddle, are you stuck in there? Just asking._**

_I am. In a way. Not really. Maybe._

**_And the prize for most confusing answer goes to… Tom Riddle! Not much of a surprise with such a name. ;)_**

Now it really took a while before he answered. Crucie started to think that Tom Marvolo Riddle was actually really quite stuck up, if he couldn't even take a little joke.

**_I'm going to eat now, but I'll be back. Bye!_**

With that she closed the diary, leaving Mr Riddle to his own thoughts.

_ (Pagebreak)_

"Hermione, you're never gonna guess what I have."

Crucie grinned and held up the diary.

"What's that?"

"Mione, meet Mr Riddle."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You've named a book?"

Crucie shook her head and laid it open on the table.

"I'll show you."

**_Mr Riddle, are you there?_**

_Where else would I be?_

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"That… that book… talks back!"

"It does. I found it in the toilet, I think someone tried to get rid of it. He's a bit of a stuck up fellow, so I can see why that could be."

"Is that actually a… a person?"

"I wouldn't know, he's rather enigmatic on the subject. All I know is that he went to Hogwarts, knew my ancestors and doesn't take well to jokes."

"Perhaps just your jokes."

"My jokes are awesome. Now, shall I introduce you?"

Hermione didn't see the harm in it, so she nodded and Crucie wrote again.

**_I would like you to meet a friend of mine, Hermione._**

She just handed the quill to Hermione, when a hissing voice resounded.

"What are you girlsssss doing there?"

She smiled at the portrait that has just arrived in its frame.

"Oh, not much. I found this talking diary and I'm introducing Hermione to it. Shall I introduce you as well?"

"A talking diary, you sssssay? It issss probably curssssed."

"I figured, but if it tries anything I'll just curse it back."

Salazar shook his head at such youthful irresponsibility.

"Sssstrangely enough there are ssstill thingssss the cruciatusss curssse can't sssolve, Misss… Black."

"Fine, I won't introduce you then."

The portrait watched them as Hermione wrote her name in the diary. As he had done with Crucie, Riddle asked for Hermione's full name.

_Granger… that is not a common wizarding name, is it?_

**_No, my parents were muggles._**

The diary remained silent, just long enough for Salazar Slytherin to make a disapproving hissing sound, and then wrote back.

_I do not wish to associate with mudbloods._

They could have known it of course, and Crucie wasn't unfamiliar with the term nor did she think it so horrible, but Hermione's face convinced her to do something. She grabbed the quill and wrote.

**_Don't talk like that about my friends, Mr Riddle, or I flush you right back through the toilet!_**

_If you associate with her, then you are a blood traitor, a blemish on the name of the Black House. Do you realize your family will shun and disown you for your contact with Miss Granger?_

**_She is my friend, and you sir, are a hypocrite. Riddle isn't a pureblood name either; chances are that you are a mudblood as well._**

_I won't stand for these insults, Miss Black! _

**_What are you going to do, give me a papercut? _**

Crucie wondered if it had been a good idea to dare a dark artefact to do something to her, after insulting it… It turned out nothing happened.

_If you are so keen on getting rid of me, then do so._

"What a stuck up bastard. I can see why he got flushed the first time."

**_As you wish. Hope you like the goodbye present…_**

She glared at the book, and the pages started quivering at first, then rapidly turning as if the book was struggling to escape her curse. Crucie wasn't particularly pissed at Mr Tom Riddle, but every reason was a good reason to torture and if it pleased Hermione that made it a double win. She checked the pages for pleas to stop, but found none. Apparently Mr Riddle was pissed enough to bite his figurative teeth and endure her curse… After she stopped, the first thing she went to do was throw the diary in a dustbin in the library, for she didn't want to disgruntle Moaning Myrtle any more by flushing the book through her head again. With that the story of Mr Riddle had come to an end… or so she thought.

**(Author's Notes)**

**So, that's not smart, Crucie. You practically spend your childhood in a Dark Artifacts shop and you still decide to get rid of one by throwing it in the dustbin? *shakes head at OC* Not smart, Crucie. Not smart at all.**

**So, Mr Riddle gets cursed. He deserved it. Crucie can curse anything, from diaries to cans of beans. I imagine that Tom's soul fragment tried to suck up the energy of the curse the first time, but that it became an overload the second and third time. Muhahahaah. *unnecessary evil laughter***

**Also, I hope you noticed Crucie doesn't really mind the word mudblood. This is for more than one reason. (Important info here!)**

**Reason 1) (and this is something that will be of importance later on) The word is according to Salazar a literal parseltongue translation that originally didn't carry the derogatory meaning it does now. **

**Reason 2) Crucie doesn't believe in expletives; Rabastan taught her that it's not the speaker who gives power to a non-magical curseword, but the listener. If you don't care for another's contempt, his words don't hurt. **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**I hope you liked this chapter... please express your content (or contempt) in a review, please? I love all reviews, cherish them deeply. Please? I need them to get better at this. If you think I'm a crappy writer and you don't let me know about why that is or what you think are my mistakes, I'll never learn! And I really want to learn. **


	8. Riddle Me This Riddle Me That

"That wassss not very intelligent of you, missss Lestrange."

"What?"

"Angering a dark object and not dessstroying it properly, perhapssss?"

"It's a thing. It can't be angered."

Right when she said that Crucie realized how stupid it must sound, mostly since she had said it to a portrait, also an object and one of which she knew very well that it could get angry. She blushed violently.

"I wasn't thinking. You're right. I'm sorry. I'll go find that thing and burn it."

"It might not be ssso easssy to kill, Misss Lestrange. Of all people you sssshould know thessse objectsss can be very resssilient."

Crucie nodded, a shameful blush still on her cheeks.

"Then what do you suggest I do?"

"Ssssend it to your friendssss on Knockturn Alley."

That was a good idea. It was what she should have done all along, actually. Crucie nodded again, more resolutely now, and decided to go find the wretched book right away. Only… when it came to it… she didn't find it in the bin. The bin hadn't been emptied, but the book was gone. With an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, Crucie truly hoped the book was just like a portrait, grumpy and stuck up perhaps, but fairly harmless. If not, then she had passed on a potentially dangerous thing to another, unwitting victim…

_(Pagebreak)_

When she heard of it, Crucie knew it had to do with the diary right away. She didn't know how, but it was just so… logical. Hermione Granger and a girl she didn't know had been found petrified in the library, courtesy of Regina. She didn't suppose Salazar's friend had anything against Hermione personally, but that diary… well, that had all the reason in the world to be vengeful. The connection as all but clear to her, but it seemed too much of a coincidence to her to ignore it. It made her feel sick in her stomach, knowing that she may inadvertently have caused the attack on her best friend…

"It's your fault, bitch!"

"Ron, stop it."

"SHE DID THAT TO HERMIONE! I'M SURE!"

"RON!"

"Let me GO! SHE'S A MONSTER, HARRY!"

Crucie caught sight of the two other friends of Hermione, Ron and Harry, who were just exiting the infirmary. Harry was doing all the effort in the world to restrain Ron and stop him from downright attacking her, but the accusation was in his eyes as well. Ashamed, Crucie turned around without visiting Hermione. She had already received a thorough scolding from Salazar for losing track of the diary, she supposed she deserved a second one for this. Either way, she was not going to her common room; Merlin knew that now Harry's supposed best friend was attacked the suspicion was back on her…

_(Pagebreak)_

Crucie felt the weight of Salazar's secret rest heavily on her shoulders as everyone stared at her. She had expected the portrait to be angry with her, but instead he had been… dejected, sad almost. He hadn't scolded her, seemingly lost in thoughts of his own. She remembered how fondly he had spoken of Regina, how much she must mean to him… and she realized the founder had possibly heard of plans to kill her. Now the attacks had started again it really was only a matter of time before someone died, and since the ministry had been mingling in it… Dumbledore had left, the groundskeeper had been arrested… it were all pointless actions, yet Crucie didn't think it past those idiots to also organize some sort of ministry-led monster-hunt. Regina had been hidden for quite some time so her hiding place must be pretty good, but you never knew. After all, the ministry had also managed to capture her parents, who were according to Uncle Rabastan some of the most brilliant duellers ever.

"They won't find her."

Crucie said it to comfort the founder, but it didn't have too much effect. His voice sounded flat as he said.

"Whether they find her or not makesssss no difference. If they don't find her, sssshe will kill a muggleborn and the sssschool will close. If sssshe isss found, they will kill her." _Either way I lose _was unspoken but Crucie understood it.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Salazar shook his head.

"All I can hope issss that my Heir realizesss what he'sss doing before it isss too late."

Somehow, Crucie doubted that the Heir, whoever he was, would stop. It turned out she was right, when the new message turned up in blood on the wall. A girl had been snatched by Regina and taken to the Chamber. It seemed a very unlikely thing for the "monster" to do, according to what Salazar had told Crucie about her… Somehow, something wasn't right about it, but she couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was. There was still the mystery of the diary to be solved, and Crucie had the feeling the solution was lying in front of her, waiting to bite her in the nose, and still it escaped her.

Without Hermione the only person she could confide in was the portrait of the Slytherin founder, but he was even more withdrawn, grumpy and silent than usual lately. She had taken to keeping him company in silence, usually with her dark arts book to keep her occupied. She couldn't concentrate on the muggle tech project without thinking of Hermione, but the dark arts book was different. There was something strangely soothing and familiar about the old dark spells that made her feel better when she practiced them. Sometimes she glanced at the photos of her family and wondered if that perhaps was because she had been surrounded by dark magic when she was a baby.

_(Pagebreak)_

Crucie spent all her free time in the dark corner. She just sat there and taught herself spell after dark spell from the book, trying to forget about everything else. Daphne sometimes tried to talk to her, but Crucie never gave the girl anything but generic answers. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to talk to anyone; it seemed that the distressed melancholy of Salazar Slytherin was dangerously contagious.

It occurred to her that she felt strangely more occupied with the wellbeing of Regina than with that of the Weasley girl that had been kidnapped. She also realized she had never asked Salazar what kind of creature Regina actually was; he had always spoken about her as if she was a human woman, and Crucie had never felt the urge to break that image. The little things the founder sometimes told her made it extremely hard to picture Regina as the blood-thirsty, muggleborn-eating freak show creature everyone apparently believed her to be.

"Sssshe wassss alwayssss terribly embarrasssssed when I caught her changing. Sssshe would inssssissst I turned around until sssshe wasss done."

"Really?"

The portrait nodded.

"Ssssshe wassss alssso very preoccupied with mating."

That made Crucie chortle.

"No way."

"Sssshe took to inquiring after my mating habitssss daily. Alsssso sssshowed a ssstrange interesssst in human anatomy on that part. I ussssed to think sssshe wasss a little… inappropriate, at the time… Thessse dayssss I believe ssshe wasss sssimply lonely."

"She never found a mate?"

"Her kind wassss and issss very rare. It sssaddened her greatly that sssshe would never reproduce."

Crucie knew it was ridiculous, but she sometimes imagined Regina to be a middle-aged woman, regal yet never stiff, with black hair that started to grey and a melodious hissing voice she would use to make clever comments and embarrass Mr Slytherin with pranging questions about human intercourse. With everything the founder had told her it was almost as if she knew that woman herself.

She should have known that Harry Potter the great Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die and his tagalong twat Ron Weasley would find the Chamber and do something heroic. After all, their adventure with the troll, and then the Philosopher's Stone should have told her that; they just attracted stuff like that. The day they brought the Weasley girl back to the infirmary was the day she saw the portrait of Salazar Slytherin at its worst. She hadn't thought that portraits could look physically ill, but it turned out they could. The usually dignified founder looked as if he had been awake for days at an end, and the sadness that filled their little corridor was almost suffocating.

"Missss Lestrange…"

"Yes?"

"I… I think I would like to call in that favour you once granted me."

**(Author's Notes)**

**Hello everyone, here is a new chapter for you! Quantumphysica is currently too ill to update, so I (Agnes R.) am updating this story for her from the parts she had already written.**

**For those who don't remember: in the previous story "A Gift And A Curse" Crucie's christmas gift for the portrait of Salazar Slytherin was a favour he could call in at any time... it seems that time has come now. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! (Please? Please please pleeeeeaaase?)**

**For one, wouldn't it be awesome for QP if she got better and could see a lot of people having reviewed? It would be like receiving get-well-soon cards, but with reviews instead ;)**

**Then, the usual applies: critics are welcome too, if you see some awful mistake somewhere, or you think the storyline is turning to crap, I'm sure QP would appreciate you notifying her of this fact. Comments and compliments and questions are appreciated too of course. **


	9. How Myrtle Stopped Moaning

Harry Potter was still slightly shocked of the events, and therefor not looking where he was going too well. At least, that's what he thought when he suddenly found himself in a part of the dungeons he had never been before. He was walking through the dungeons after Potions, but somehow he had gotten lost. It was as if someone had messed a bit with his head. He was just looking around him to see if he remembered where he was and how he had gotten there, when he felt something poke in his back. The tip of a wand. He wanted to reach for his own, but then a familiar voice hissed.

"Try something and I cruciate your mind to pieces."

"You."

"I need you to do something for me."

"What? Can't you just ask instead of… this?"

"It's not something one can simply ask. I need to go to the Chamber of Secrets, and I need you to get me in."

Harry Potter turned around and saw it was indeed Crucio Black who had lured him to the dungeons, somehow.

"Why would you want that?"

"Personal reasons. I won't hurt anyone with it, if that's what you're worried about."

"How did you get me here?"

"Simple confundus charm based enchantment, I found it in a book and put it on you in Potions class. It wore off just in time for you to listen to me."

Harry found that a very disconcerting thought, he was almost certain it was some kind of dark magic.

"Look, I don't owe you anything, Black."

Crucie raised an eyebrow.

"I know. But if you do this, I will owe you something. As you know, favours are good things to have… and it would be foolish to get on my bad side."

"You have a good side then?"

Crucie chuckled.

"My good side is the side where I don't cruciate you for fun and giggles. No seriously, I don't want to cause trouble. I just have to do this."

"You are so sick, Black."

"And you're too clever to deny me this. It wont hurt anyone, and no one ever has to know."

"But… why?"

"I have a debt to pay."

Harry didn't know why, and he hoped no dark arts were involved, but he felt inclined to say yes. There was something about Crucie Black that felt absolutely innocent and determined to do good things for people she cared about, despite the threats and the creepy torture curse thing, and for some reason when she said she wouldn't hurt anyone he believed her.

"Fine. Meet me tonight in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

Crucie raised an eyebrow.

"Are you telling me that the Chamber...?"

"You'll see. Now can I please go?"

Crucie watched Harry leave and giggled to herself at the thought that the entrance to the Chamber might be hidden in a girl's bathroom, especially since the Heir was supposed to be male. She still didn't know the whole story on that; she decided to interrogate Potter tonight in the Chamber.

_(Pagebreak)_

"So, what actually happened in the Chamber?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, you've already gotten me in here!"

Harry led Crucie through the mouldy, wet corridors covered in algae, clearly uncomfortable with the slytherin girl's incessant questioning.

"Yeah, because you threatened my sanity. Will you please shut up before I lose my way and we get lost?"

Crucie giggled a bit but shut up. Finally they arrived in the great chamber, where Crucie got to see… Regina. The corpse of a truly humongous snake was lying on the floor, and Crucie estimated the creature to be at least fifty feet long. She had a deep emerald green colour, glowing almost in the strangely filtered light of the Chamber. Crucie could easily see how Salazar had been impressed with the serpent. She hadn't known about Regina's nature until the founder had called in his favour… and now…

"Watch out for its teeth, they're highly poisonous."

"It's a she."

Crucie said, as she walked over to the creature. She softly placed her hand on the beast's enormous head and patted it. The basilisk wasn't just impressive, in a strange way she was also very beautiful. Seeing how she had been mutilated, Crucie almost felt hurt in Salazar's place.

"I'm sorry we never got to know each other better, Regina."

Harry watched her and wondered if he had made a grave mistake by bringing the girl to the Chamber. She was obviously… disturbed. Crucie stepped back, and smiled. Then she raised her wand and spoke.

"I, Crucio Carina Lestrange, will give you the burial you deserve, Regina Slytherin, Queen of Serpents. _Ignis Animae._"

Harry didn't have the time to even ponder over the name Crucie had used. He was enthralled to see a white spark shoot from her wand, which as soon as it hit the dead serpent set the whole corpse ablaze. It looked like normal fire, but Harry knew it wasn't. It didn't spread; it just rapidly devoured the fleshy remains of the basilisk. It was scary how quickly it made the flesh of the great snake disappear into seemingly nothing; not even smoke or ash was left behind.

"What have you done?"

"Sssh."

They watched, and soon the fire died out, leaving nothing but the skeleton of the snake behind. Crucie gave it a respectful nod.

"I have paid my debt."

She looked at Harry.

"Thank you. Will you take me back now?"

"Not before you tell me what you have done."

"I have set her spirit free, given her a proper burial. It was the least she deserved."

Harry didn't think the muggle-born killing monster deserved that at all, but he was wise enough not to say that.

"But… if you needed me to get into the Chamber, how did you know her?"

"We have a mutual acquaintance."

She said no more, and Harry didn't ask. He felt there was something else, something more important he needed to ask her. Something about her name… or was it?

"I need to ask you something."

"Oh? What?"

Harry realized he had forgotten what it was.

"I… I… I don't remember."

Crucie smiled warmly.

"It sure wasn't that important then."

Internally, she praised herself for having read the entire chapter on confundus and memory charms in the dark arts book…

_(Pagebreak)_

The next day, Crucie wore the Hogwarts mourning robes, all black. No one but Harry Potter and the portrait of Salazar Slytherin knew why. Daphne was extremely worried.

"Crucie… has someone died?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

"Oh gosh… it's not your uncle, is it?"

Now Crucie shook her head.

"No. But someone I care for lost his dearest friend, and I am showing solidarity."

Daphne understood. Solidary mourning was a known pureblood practice, after all. Sometimes whole communities dressed in black for months after a funeral.

"I understand if you don't want to tell me, but who…"

Crucie smiled sadly.

"Her name was Regina."

Crucie wasn't the only student in mourning robes. Despite all what her family and friends had told her, Ginny Weasley was wearing black as well. Crucie hadn't seen at first, but when she encountered the red-haired girl their eyes met, and she immediately knew. She didn't know what rumours were true and which ones were total bogus, but those eyes told her everything she needed to know. As the girl passed her, Crucie stopped her and laid her hand on her arm.

"I understand."

It was clear the girl was uncomfortable with Crucie, and she frowned, opened her mouth to say something… and then closed it again. There was a silent gratitude in her eyes when she nodded and walked on. Crucie watched her leave, and secretly hoped that she would be okay. Ron Weasley might be a twat, but his older, tech-loving family member proved that you shouldn't judge someone on his or her family name alone. Ginny Weasley deserved some credit. No matter if she had been hypnotized, possessed or under the influence of the Imperius, the mourning robes proved that on some level she must feel sorry for the things that had happened… and her eyes proved so much more even.

_(Pagebreak)_

"Hermione…"

"Yeah?"

Harry looked a bit uncomfortable at his friend.

"I wonder… there is this spell, I don't exactly remember… Ignus Animo, or something like it… ever heard of that?"

Hermione looked up from her book.

"Ignis Animae, you mean? It's a very old spell that wizards used to cast on their familiars after they died, so that they would be able to come back as a ghost if they wished. It became in disuse after the ministry bans on the domestic keeping of dragons and other creatures with high intelligence… You can see why most wizards rather take a new cat or owl than have their old one return to them as a ghost. It's simply impractical. A ghost owl can't send letters and petting a ghost cat is not that fun either."

Harry swallowed. He thought about it, and swallowed again.

"And… those familiars could choose if they wanted to come back as a ghost?"

"It's all old and complicated magic, I don't know that much about it honestly. Why do you want to know?"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, just interested. Read that spell somewhere."

He hastened himself out of the library, leaving Hermione wondering what exactly had happened during her petrification that they weren't telling her... A few days later she found out.

"I refuse! I REFUSE! I will NOT share the pipes with HER! Exorcise her! I don't want it! How can they do this to me?! It is NOT going to happen! NOT EVER!"

Moaning Myrtle had left her habitual haunt, flooding all the toilets and bathrooms in the whole castle while screaming hell and murder about how she would not, not now, not ever, share her bathroom with "her", whoever that might be. The hallways were wet, the common rooms were wet, the kitchens were having trouble, not a single toilet was functioning… Hermione heard one of the students joke that perhaps the ghost of Myrtle's old bully had decided to come haunt the toilet with her… But Hermione had the lingering suspicion it was something much worse that had Myrtle in such a tangle. The House Ghosts; Nearly Headless Nick, the Grey Lady, the Bloody Baron and the Fat Friar, where all floating hurriedly after Myrtle who made sure not one tap or toilet remained un-flooded.

"Be reasonable Myrtle!"

"Myrtle you will behave yourself! This is not behaviour worthy of a Hogwarts Ghost!"

"Dearie I'm sure solutions can be found if you would only talk to her…"

Myrtle turned around to the ghosts. A lot of students had already gathered in the hallways, everyone was waiting for the grand ghost fight. The young ghost was seething with anger, her cheeks coloured dark grey in a ghostly type of angry blush.

"TALK TO HER? You want me to talk to that bitch who MURDERED ME?! I don't even, IT'S BAD ENOUGH TO BE DEAD WITHOUT HER!"

The Grey Lady spoke up, dignified as always.

"You are far from the only one to meet ghosts of your past here. It is something we just have to live with."

Some students snorted, since it was a rather amusing statement from a ghost. It didn't soothe Myrtle though, the usually rather meek toilet ghost with her large glasses looked positively dangerous.

"THIS SCHOOL WILL FLOOD FOR AS LONG AS SHE LIVES IN MY DOMAIN! They promised me I could have the pipes as long as I stayed out of the rest of the school and poor me, poor me just said yes, well MYRTLE SAYS NO! I'm so DONE with all this! She gets out or no single toilet will flush properly until you GET HER OUT!"

"But Myrtle…"

"Eh, Myrtle, congrats! Chaos your new hobby?"

Peeves the Poltergeist floated through the corridor, cackling maniacally. Nearly Headless Nick remarked annoyed,

"Get out Peeves, people are talking."

The Poltergeist giggled and splashed some toilet water at a few students, but further ignored them. At long last the ghost row attracted the attention of the professors as well.

"What is going on here!? Ladies, gentlemen? What is this all about?"

Dumbledore stood in the middle of the hallway, holding his colourful robes so they wouldn't hang in the water on the floor. The ghosts all started to talk through each other, until a loud hissing sound interrupted them. It was exactly the loud hissing sound Hermione had heard that one day in the library, right before everything had gone black… Students started screaming when suddenly an enormous ghostly snakehead came out of the wall, flashing its forked tongue at the students. Dumbledore slowly nodded.

"I see." He looked at Professor McGonagall "Could you please find me Mr Potter?"

Hermione realized she would need to have a serious conversation with Harry…

**(Author's Notes)**

**The Return of Regina! (And myself, I thank you all for wishing me well while I was sick!) To answer a few questions you might have:**

**I named the basilisk Regina Slytherin, because she was Salazar's familiar and he actually did consider her part of his family. Hence the last name. **

**She is blind, as you may know, so she won't petrify or kill people. Besides, as a ghost I doubt she even can do those things. She does have a "ghostly mental eye" or something like that, so she can easily find her way around the castle and "see" things. An artistic liberty I added just for practicality, really.**

**As for Crucie's confundus charms: we all know Crucie has been delving into the dark arts, and I believe there are various not overly difficult memory and compulsion charms possible that simply few people know because they are dark. So, to avoid confusion, Crucie has not acquired a new highly unlikely skillset, she is simply a good student of the dark arts ;)**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**I love your reviews... please? Please please please? I give cookies to all my reviewers... love you all! Critics are welcome, and of course compliments as well ;) If you have a question, I will not leave it unanswered. **


	10. Epilogue: Reporting To Rabastan

Classes were suspended, rumours were spreading, everything was wet, and all the ghosts and portraits were holding a heated debate about whether or not the ghost of a giant muggleborn-murdering Basilisk could be allowed to stay in the castle. Meanwhile, a very flustered Harry Potter found himself in the office of Professor Dumbledore.

"Well, Harry… I don't have to explain you how this situation somehow traces back to you, do I?" Harry shook his head. "Lemon drop?"

Again he shook his head. Dumbledore looked as if he wanted an answer, so Harry softly said.

"I… Helped someone. She said it wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Well, as a ghost the worst that snake will do to anyone is scare them… So I suppose that's true. I think Moaning Myrtle has made more victims today; Madam Pomfrey is working overtime on sprained wrists and ankles from people who slipped."

Dumbledore peered over his glasses.

"Yet that doesn't explain why you did what you did, Harry."

Harry realized he should rat out Crucio Black, but… he didn't really want to. If he told the headmaster she had probably used some kind of dark convincing magic on him she would probably get expelled, it wasn't that she had a lot of credit after she incapacitated their DADA teacher. For some reason he didn't want to be the one responsible for that...

"I just opened the Chamber for her. She said she had a debt to pay."

"Who was it?"

Harry bit his teeth.

"Crucio Black."

_(Pagebreak)_

_Dear Uncle,_

_The year is almost over, and soon I'll be back in London… I can't wait for it! _

_So much has happened since I last wrote you… I'm sure you've heard all about the Chamber from my other uncle already so I won't bore you with a story about how the "Great" Harry Potter defeated the basilisk and rescued his asshole friend's sister from the clutches of an evil diary (which she had apparently gotten from previously mentioned other uncle, can you believe it? I bet he didn't tell you that…) _

_ More interesting is that I have been in the Chamber myself! I kind of "persuaded" Potter into letting me in (you know me, always convincing!) because the portrait of Salazar Slytherin had asked me to give his old familiar a proper burial. Long story short, we now have a new resident basilisk ghost in the castle. I don't think Moaning Myrtle will ever forgive me for that. (The perks of being Unforgivable, perhaps? :P)_

_Dumbledore wasn't exactly happy to hear I gave Regina (that's the basilisk) a "funeral"… But since she's practically a piece of Hogwarts history and no one in the whole teaching staff wanted to take on the task of evicting a fifty feet long thousand year old blind basilisk ghost from the castle, she was allowed to stay. The first years of next term are going to be in for a surprise! I haven't actually spoken to Regina myself, she and her master's portrait have a lot of catching up to do and I guessed they required privacy. Also, I probably wouldn't understand her anyway._

_I hope Mr Burke will have lots of clients for me to test my new skills on! (Yes, the book he gave me last year is very instructive…) I have missed playing around with my talent; occasionally tormenting passing students isn't half as fulfilling as what I usually do…_

_Much love,_

_Crucio _

**(Author's Notes)**

**This is the epilogue of the second book... BUT THERE'S MORE TO COME!**

**Please, dear people... REVIEW, and check out the sequel: The Gifted Curse!**

**Questions will be answered, Critics are appreciated, Compliments are loved! **

**In The Gifted Curse, Crucie is ready for her third year of Hogwarts... A murderer on the loose that conveniently shares her (false) last name doesn't make her any more popular with the other students, but nevertheless she makes new friends. She discovers an old secret about her family, battles speech impediments and dementors, and causes havoc as usual. Torture (and trouble) ensues! **


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